


A Discussion Between Jedi

by Vanyathalias



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, First Time Topping, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanyathalias/pseuds/Vanyathalias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after Obi-Wan tops Qui-Gon for the first time, he feels restless and unsettled.  Qui-Gon tries to help him work through it and discover the source of his discomfort.  In the process, Obi-Wan tries to convince Qui-Gon to leave certain mistakes in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Discussion Between Jedi

**Author's Note:**

> This "excerpt" scene can be read as a stand alone, but will ultimately be part of an AU series (if I ever get around to finishing the other stories). It explicitly references past (semi) non-con and underage that took place in other missions, but no sex takes place in this story.
> 
> Also, this is the first time I've written this fandom. I tried to keep them as close to cannon as I could. For instance, Qui-Gon is a Jedi Master. He's mature, controlled and puts heavy emphasis on teaching his apprentice, but he's human; he's made mistakes and has his regrets. Obi-Wan is a Jedi Padawan. He's extremely respectful towards his master, but he's young and in love, opinionated yet self-conscious. I hope I did them both justice.

Obi-Wan quietly prepared a small breakfast of dense bread with flavored spreads, a mild cheese, tea, and fruit while waiting for his master to wake up. He’d had no choice after his stomach began protesting so loudly he was afraid it might disturb Qui-Gon, who had been sleeping beside him.

Well, that, and he was restless. He couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. ‘It was nice, really it was,’ Obi-Wan told himself, ‘but it just wasn’t satisfying, for some reason.’ He frowned at the counter as he admitted the truth to himself, cutting various fruit into bite-sized pieces. It was a thought that made him feel like an ungrateful low-life. He’d had sex with Qui-Gon countless times in the past few months, and it had always felt so right. Then, last night, he’d gotten Qui-Gon’s gracious permission to explore the older man’s body in its entirety, to touch, lick and nuzzle to his heart’s content. Qui-Gon had stretched out on the bed, obeying Obi-Wan’s directions to lift a knee here, move an arm there, to turn over and spread your legs a bit.

After running his fingers through his master’s silky, silver-streaked hair, scratching at the prickly beard, grasping at the strong shoulders and arms, tickling across the ribs and hairy underarms, massaging the muscles under the lightly furred chest and toned stomach, exploring the powerful thighs and lean calves, caressing the hard shaft and velvety soft testicles, and kneading the rounded buttocks, he’d been drawn to the one spot he’d felt too shy to ever purposefully touch before. It had started with a few curious strokes, but quickly progressed to licking and fingering, Obi-Wan flushing with arousal at the erotic sounds his master was making. He hadn’t expected Qui-Gon’s desperate urgings to keep going, his quiet reassurances; he most assuredly hadn’t prepared for the reality of thrusting into his master’s body.

But it was sex with Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, the only thing he’d ever wanted as much as becoming a knight. He should feel inordinately pleased, not unsettled.

It wasn’t much longer before Qui-Gon appeared around the corner looking mussed and sleepy, but satiated. There was no doubt what he’d been up to the night before, or that he’d enjoyed it. “Good morning, Padawan.” Obi-Wan smiled softly, silently vowing to keep his mouth shut about his misgivings. “Good morning, Master. Did you sleep well?”  
“Yes.” A short pause. “I take it you didn’t? You’re awake before me for once.”  
“Oh, I was just… too hungry to sleep anymore.”  
“Ah, I see.”

Qui-Gon sat in the small dining area, clad in trousers and an under tunic, and watched his padawan move about the tiny kitchenette. They said nothing as the minutes ticked by, the silence broken only by the quiet hum of electronics and the clanking of dishes. The atmosphere slowly shifted from amicable to strained, and Qui-Gon began worrying at his lip with his pearly white teeth. He felt the tension vibrating in the Force. Something was wrong, but what? Obi-Wan seemed fine last night, even exhilarated. This morning he seemed skittish.

Sweeping his braid behind his ear, Obi-Wan finished arranging everything on a platter and brought it to the table. Noting the pensive look on Qui Gon’s face, Obi-Wan wondered if his incredibly astute master already sensed something, and decided to test the waters. “Is everything alright, Master?”

A wry smile touched the older man’s lips as Obi-Wan sat down. “I was going to ask you the same,” Qui-Gon started, and took a breath. “But I already know you’re unhappy about last night.” Startled at the speed of exposure, Obi-Wan denied it immediately, but the lie was an obvious, discordant and bitter tang sizzling across their bond, reminiscent of the smell of ozone after a lightning strike. ‘I should’ve known better than to even attempt hiding something from him,’ Obi-Wan groaned silently at Qui-Gon’s displeased gaze.

Trying to redeem himself, he continued, “I don’t mean it was bad.” The acrid flavor was replaced with the crisp sweetness of truth, and Qui-Gon stopped staring in censure, relieved that at least the previous night hadn’t been something grossly traumatic. But he knew there was more coming, and waited patiently. “I know what we shared, what you gave me last night, was special. I appreciate that.” His eyes were pleading for understanding. “It was just new and different, and…” He trailed off, shrugging.

“Uncomfortable? Dissatisfying?” Qui-Gon said, trying to put a name to the sensation he felt, studying his padawan’s beautiful blue-grey eyes to see if those guesses were valid. Obi-Wan looked stricken, replying hesitantly, “Yes? No? Maybe? I’m not even sure myself.” Obi-Wan slouched in his chair and spoke with a light breath, so quiet Qui-Gon almost couldn’t make it out. “It just feels… sort of… I don’t know, hollow.” Louder now, he continued, “I’m so sorry, Master. I am.” He couldn’t even look up anymore, his shame was so overwhelming.

“Please,” the Jedi master said, forcing words around the sudden tightness in his throat, “don’t feel bad for acknowledging the truth, Padawan. Burying it would only cause a wound to fester between us.” His words were proper, but inside he ached, unsure if the truth hadn’t just done the same by the feeling in his gut. Qui-Gon centered his awareness he acknowledged and released his pain into the Force, its purpose fulfilled. Wallowing in hurt feelings wouldn’t help, and controlling emotions came easily to a Jedi master. It was certainly easier and far more useful than wailing childishly or lashing out at his mate.

Obi-Wan stared at the table in despair. What was wrong with him? His master had given of himself freely, and he had the audacity to feel… unsatisfied? And then to tell him so! He wanted to fall into a pit and die.

Meanwhile Qui-Gon considered the issue with a cleared mind, reasoning and deducing. “Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon’s quiet voice drew the younger man’s gaze upward. “You feel uncomfortable about having penetrated me, right?” A slight cringe told he had, indeed, hit the mark, but there were any number of reasons for that. Obi-Wan could simply feel inadequate. ‘Doubtful.’ He might be overly deferential to rank; afraid to tell his master he’s uncomfortable, or feel that what he’d done wasn’t proper. ‘Hmm, now those are possibilities.’

Obi-Wan had promised Yoda that he would obey his master unquestioningly at all times, aware of the need to respect Qui-Gon’s authority even in regards to intercourse. That assurance was the only reason Yoda had conspired with them to keep their relationship secret from the Council in the first place.

‘Not that it did much good in the end,’ Qui-Gon mused. So many things had happened recently to turn their lives upside down: their abduction during a mission on Nahlek, their illicit affair being discovered, their separation by the Council barely prevented by Yoda’s revelation of particular details from a five year old mission, and the Sarthian King’s appearance at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant… 

Qui-Gon shook his head. ‘Stop wool-gathering, old man,’ he told himself. Back to the point, he agreed with that promise, being exceedingly careful to prevent their nighttime activities from negatively affecting Obi-Wan’s training. He didn’t want to lose another padawan to the Dark Side for any reason, whether it was because he was too preoccupied with sex to teach him properly, too soft to discipline his faults, or too intimate to maintain Obi-Wan’s reverence for his wisdom. Besides, making sure their coupling occurred only in times of safety and privacy was a vital responsibility for a master who’d done the unthinkable and taken his padawan to his bed. But as with all things, they had to seek balance, and Obi-Wan retained rights as well. ‘Such as feeling free to decline anything at any time, which he’s used without fear before,’ Qui-Gon remembered, and dismissed the cause as feeling forced.

‘It could still be related to propriety and rank, I suppose. . Or it could be some horrible consequence of that mission,’ he thought. Obi-Wan had just turned fifteen, a padawan barely two years, when Qui-Gon had violated his apprentice’s body and trust in a mutually non-consensual encounter. ‘Rape, Qui-Gon. You raped him. Don’t skirt the issue to make yourself feel better.’ He felt like a pedophile every time he thought about it, but they’d both been overdosed with aphrodisiacs and incapable of preventing it. It was the details of this very mission that Yoda revealed to help save them from Council-ordered separation. 

An image of his youngling padawan, rutting, writhing, and begging in agony for his master to do _something_ came to mind unbidden. ‘The pain only stopped for us when I was moving inside him,’ Qui-Gon remembered, swallowing harshly. Color just touched his cheeks, and he gave himself a hard mental shake to dispel more explicit images and the echoes of Obi-Wan’s fledgling cries of passion.

Of course, it’d been meant to cause problems. The traitor who’d poisoned them wanted the pair, negotiating a ‘cease fire’, out of the way. Knowing such liaisons were strictly forbidden in the Jedi Order, the leader of the rebellion had hoped making a Jedi master rape his own padawan would destroy their unity and cause them to abscond in shame, leaving the negotiations in tatters and the seat of power ripe for the picking. It had failed, though, ultimately leading to his arrest and an end to the coup.

Still, issues from something like that were unavoidable, and Qui-Gon had always worried what kind of invisible damage had been done. It could be causing any number of wrong assumptions or inappropriate fixations, such as feeling like it was his ‘place’ to be used by Qui-Gon, as he had been when he was fifteen. And as untraditional a breakfast topic as this was, they needed to get it sorted out immediately. Shifting his awareness outward again, Qui-Gon urged Obi-Wan to describe his feelings further, hoping it would help to narrow down the cause.

“The only thing I can think of is that I simply didn’t like… entering you, because…” Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan’s jaw muscles clench as he voiced something he would rather have kept behind his teeth. “It wasn’t… I don’t know. It did feel good. You know I had no problem, umm, well, finishing.” Obi-Wan turned a lovely shade of pink. “But it was as if I were missing something. Like something was lacking or incomplete, something empty. I could just be reacting badly to a more active role. Feeling more, dominating maybe?”  
“Padawan, the penetrated has a great deal of control, dictating most aspects of the coupling. I know I’ve discussed that with you before, and you’ve never had a problem telling me how you wanted it done.” Qui-Gon gave a small smile. “And since I could’ve easily thrown you off me at any time, I would hardly call that ‘dominating’.” 

Obi-Wan choked down a surprised laugh, caught off-guard by his master’s sudden teasing. He relaxed a bit, put at ease with Qui-Gon’s familiar teaching aura. He focused again on the truth in his emotions, examining and testing the flavor of each one. “It felt that way, though, the sensation of control. It was as if I were apart from it, or above … as if I was out-… no, the experience was outside.” Obi-Wan vented his frustration by roughly rubbing at his spiky hair. “It’s too elusive a feeling. I’m not sure how to put it into words.”

Qui-Gon nodded his acceptance and sympathy, already evaluating the new information. ‘So he doesn’t like being in charge, in general? That’s a serious problem for a Jedi, unless it’s only distasteful to him in the bedroom, which, actually…’ Something tickled in the back of his mind, but refused to present itself just yet. ‘He particularly doesn’t seem to feel comfortable being in charge of me, anyway. It’s possible his concept of sexual roles is skewed, even unconsciously. He didn’t actually agree that the penetrated has plenty of control,’ Qui-Gon realized. It was time to dig a little deeper into this theory.

“Does age, rank, or strength negate one’s desire for pleasure?”  
“Of course not, Master.”  
“Do you feel that the penetrated is submitting?”  
“No, Master, and you just…”  
“Does penetration give control?”  
“No, Master.”  
“Is sex about domination?”  
“Not at all, Master.”  
“Why not?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan spoke slowly, thinking it through out loud. “The purpose of sex is to gain intimacy, to be together… to give pleasure. And you should put your mate’s desires above your own to do that. That means sex is actually about submission, not domination,” he hazarded, chewing the inside of his cheek. Qui-Gon looked pleased, and nodded.  
“I suppose it’s possible to not submit,” Obi-Wan continued, “you’d gain all the focus and dominate by default… but it’d likely be without consent. It’d be a very unhealthy pairing. If you’re focusing on each other, it can’t… well, no, actually. Domination could be involved. It could even be vital and still be healthy, but one would have to desire control, or desire to give it up. Then the other would submit to that need. So it wouldn’t be an accident, at any rate,” Obi-Wan concluded.

“Very well-reasoned, my young padawan. That is absolutely correct.” Qui-Gon smiled approvingly at Obi-Wan’s insight. “And if you understand that, truly understand it, then your discomfort isn’t from having control over me. Domination is neither what I asked for nor what you intended.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I… you’re right, Master. But I still don’t understand what my problem is.” Obi-Wan looked miserable, and buried his face in his hands.

After a few moments of silence, Qui-Gon had an idea and abruptly changed tactics. Sliding his chair and body closer to the younger man, he dropped his voice an octave and rumbled, “Tell me what you feel, Obi-Wan, when you’re on your hands and knees in front of me, aching for me to fill you.” The young Jedi dropped his hands from his face, blinking with surprise. Seeing that Qui-Gon was serious, he closed his eyes, called up an appropriate image, and couldn't help the quiet whimper that escaped. The rhythm of his breathing increased, but he called out his emotions to the given scenario as they came to him. “Desire. Need. Arousal. Anticipation.” Qui-Gon nodded to himself when Obi-Wan’s litany ended.

“And what did you feel last night, your hands holding my hips steady as you prepared to enter me?” Obi-Wan swallowed heavily, replaying the moment in his mind: his powerful master on all fours, panting, spreading his legs to expose his most intimate parts. Obi-Wan shivered. “Nervousness. Anticipation. Arousal. Desire.” After a moment’s mental review, Qui-Gon exhaled, “Oh. Yes, I see.”

The younger Jedi opened his eyes. “What?” Qui-Gon sat back and popped a piece of fruit in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he double checked the logic of his conclusion. Obi-Wan impatiently tapped at the table until Qui-Gon explained.

“Did you notice, Padawan? Focus on your emotions again. What’s the key difference between your lists?” Obi-Wan blinked and reviewed what he said. Most of them were the same, just in a different order… perhaps denoting intensity or importance? Still, there was one critical difference: need. “What does that mean, Master?”

Qui-Gon found himself eating in earnest now that he’d found a likely answer to the issue, explaining the significance between bites. “Simply put, you need to be penetrated.” Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan’s brows knit in confusion as he tried to take in such a basic, nondescript statement. “I’m sorry, Master. I don’t quite understand what you mean.” Taking pity on his apprentice, he knelt on the floor and put a comforting hand on the small knee in front of him.

“Obi-Wan, your need wasn’t fulfilled last night. That’s why you feel dissatisfied; penetrating me doesn’t give you the sense of togetherness you crave, one of the very things you astutely stated was the purpose of sex. However, you have an extremely strong sense of unity when I’m inside you, don’t you?” Obi-Wan nodded, slightly bewildered but recognizing and acknowledging the truth of the words.

“I believe that for you, being inside of another person is emotionally lacking, that you actually need to be penetrated to be emotionally involved in the joining. Do you remember what you said after you’d reached orgasm, but I hadn’t, and I entered you?” Obi-Wan shook his head. Qui-Gon continued, “Well, that seemingly inconsequential statement you made is the answer. Think back. I entered you, and you grasped my arms while you adjusted to me and said it felt so good because…”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan smiled shyly as memory caught up. “I said it felt so good to be both surrounded and filled… amazing that I hadn’t noticed before that I could barely tell where I ended and you began.”

“I believe you were experiencing the full intensity of our unity because you’d just noted its absence so strongly.” Qui-Gon smiled gently. “It’s like trying to feed a carnivore plants. Your intentions of feeding the creature are noble, and the hungry animal probably wants to comply, but eating vegetables is simply not in its nature. And you’d be a fool to be angry that it wouldn’t.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth was open slightly, his jaw lax in comprehension and his brows slightly furrowed. Opening himself to the Force entirely, the younger Jedi also realized the strong sense of rightness in these words, that it was indeed what had given him such soul-deep dissatisfaction. “And I’d be a fool to fight your nature, Padawan. For whatever reason, you require an internal joining for sexual fulfillment.”

Obi-Wan, slightly overwhelmed for some few minutes, finally came back to himself as a thought occurred. “What about you? I know you enjoyed it. It isn’t as good as when you have me, but… you know I’ll do it again, if that’s what you want.” Qui-Gon smiled. “Oh, my gentle, sweet, considerate padawan.” He leaned up and placed a soft kiss on Obi-Wan’s forehead. “I enjoyed it, yes, but I don’t require it the way you require this. I’ll submit to your needs, as I should.”

“And what about your needs, Master?” Obi-Wan replied, concern written all over his face.  
Qui-Gon grinned wolfishly. “You don’t have to worry. Your needs are mine. Believe me, love, I feel plenty of unity when I’m plundering you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart knocked hard against his chest, a tingling flush chasing itself across his face, down his body, and settled as heat between his thighs. He’d spent the last seven years thinking Qui-Gon Jinn was a stoic and contained man; since becoming his lover, he was constantly surprised at the passion and sexuality simmering below the calm exterior. Obi-Wan smiled back, love in his eyes. Still, he couldn’t help one last confirmation. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Master?”

“I promise I don’t mind, Padawan. It was a pleasant experience, one I’ll cherish. But unless it brings you fulfillment, I’ll leave it in the past.” Qui-Gon straightened enough to lean in and slid his tongue between the smaller man’s soft lips. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and opened his mouth more, tasting the sweetness of fruit in Qui-Gon’s saliva as his master’s beard prickled against his sensitive skin. He let out a soft whine as Qui-Gon pulled away and sat back down in his chair.

The two turned to their breakfast, processing the revelations of the morning while listening to the soft sounds of biting, chewing and the occasional slurp of cooling tea. Qui-Gon wiped his mouth with a napkin absently, cleaning his facial hair of unwanted crumbs, and broke the once more companionable silence with an earlier thought that had finally seen fit to come forward.

“By the way, when you talked about domination earlier… it gave me a feeling that you might be interested in trying it.” Obi-Wan blinked, feeling slightly confused. “No, I’m quite certain I don’t want to dominate you.” Qui-Gon chuckled, “Of course not. But I think you want it from me.” He reached over the table and ran a calloused hand across his lover’s cheek. “Am I correct?” Obi-Wan turned inward, thinking seriously about it, and testing his body’s reaction to the idea. Hmm, it was having an interesting effect…  
Looking a little pleased yet hesitant, Obi-Wan replied, “I suppose that, well, maybe we could try it. Just once. I mean, I do like it when you bite my neck when you cum.”

Qui-Gon grinned, surprised something like that came out of his padawan’s usually reserved mouth. Well, two could play that game, and he knew he would easily win it. ‘Oh, my innocent little padawan has no idea what kinds of things I’ve thought about doing to him,’ he mused wickedly. “I could do much more than that.” He moved over to run his hand up the smaller man’s thigh, stopping just shy of an indecent area, and whispered into Obi-Wan’s ear, “For instance, you’d probably love it if I held you down and fucked my seed into you.”

Obi-Wan blanched and flushed in turns, his mouth open in shock. Qui-Gon smiled sweetly, placed a quick kiss on Obi-Wan’s slack lips, and went back to eating while his padawan coped with the filthy remark at his own pace. After a while, he heard his apprentice clear his throat a few times, shake his head, and sigh. “Alright, Master, maybe we can try it more than once.” They looked at each other and grinned.

After a few more mouthfuls of food, Obi-Wan abruptly gasped and stood up. Qui-Gon stared at him inquisitively, but his eyes were wide, seeing nothing, rigid with shock. A few moments later, he looked into Qui-Gon’s eyes and said mindlessly, “Master… I’m homosexual.” Qui-Gon stifled a laugh, knowing something had to have triggered the inane statement, and prodded for it with his responses.

“Yes, you are my mate, aren’t you?”  
“Yes.”  
“And I am a man,” he continued.  
“Yes.”  
“The idea that you like men is a surprise to you?”  
Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, Master, that’s not what I meant…”

‘Ah yes, I thought there was something.’ The lost and completely serious look in Obi-Wan’s eyes brought out a sudden and profound urge to nurture, and Qui-Gon held out his arms in an invitation for refuge. Obi-Wan sat in his lap, and Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around the small frame. Obi-Wan laid his head on his master’s shoulder and sighed. “Of course it’s not surprising that I like men, but I’ve always thought liking them was about attraction. I just realized I’m wrong. I’ve been completely wrong, because if what you said earlier is true, I have to like men. Not just because I find them beautiful but because I need to have sex with them. I never expected that, Master. I always thought I liked girls, too, and just never had sex with them because I had you instead. I mean, I always thought Siri was pretty.”

“Yes, she was an attractive young lady,” Qui-Gon reassured him, urged him to continue.

“But it’s as if my body has been lying to me. Why do I even find girls attractive if they can’t even… well, do anything for me?” Qui-Gon shrugged, contemplating his padawan’s question. “It’s probably a simple, ascetic attraction. You can see beauty without acting on it. However, as you noted, there wouldn’t have been any satisfaction in bedding her, or any female. I’m certain you would have found this out earlier, gradually… had I not violated you as a youngling.” Obi-Wan lifted his head and looked at Qui-Gon, his eyes full of sympathy and regret. Obi-Wan tensed. He knew this topic well.

“We formed a sexual bond that night, my young padawan, one I failed to break though I tried. You’ve been fixated on me as your mate ever since, and I’m very sorry about that.” Qui-Gon ran his hand though Obi-Wan’s soft hair and down to the tip of his padawan braid. “You never had the chance to act on your attraction to women and find these types of things out with experience… as I’m quite sure you would have, if I hadn’t been in the way.”

“You were not, are not, and never will be ‘in the way,’” Obi-Wan answered hotly. Qui-Gon held out his hands, palms up, in capitulation, shrugging. This was not a battle he wanted to fight again. He’d lost it every other time he’d tried, hence regularly sleeping with Obi-Wan in the first place. Arguing the sanity of their relationship, its morality, even their thirty-five year age gap, was old territory.

“And I’d happily give up bedding women, _anyone_ , to have you even once,” Obi-Wan continued with conviction and followed it with a huff. “Anyway, now you have less to feel guilty about. I know for certain that night did not skew my preferences towards men in general or you in specific. It couldn’t, since my body is hardwired to need what it does. And if that’s true, I would have always ended up wanting you.” A small smile touched his lips.

Qui-Gon gave an answering smile, but it faded quickly. “I’ll give you that as plausible, but just because your sexuality wasn’t skewed doesn’t prove that it didn’t cause problems between us. And those, my Obi-Wan, _are_ my fault. I’m your master, and it was my responsibility to take care of you. I failed. I didn’t prevent it from happening, but I could’ve at least purged or contr-…”

“Stop it, Master. Stop blaming yourself,” Obi-Wan cut in. He knew this was a touchy topic, but occasionally still tried to make his master let it go. Although Qui-Gon deduced how they were drugged after the incident, he hadn’t caught it in time. It was an honest mistake, particularly understandable since the version they were dosed with was as dangerous as modern science could make it: slow-acting, extremely potent, tasteless, colorless, and odorless. No one blamed him for it, not even the Council, and they were notorious for holding Masters to ridiculously high standards of behavior.

“Besides, I treasure what I remember of that night, even if it is a little hazy. And now that we’re together, I really don’t see what’s wrong with remembering it fondly. It was our first night together. You know that’s how I feel. You just need to feel the same,” Obi-Wan’s stated, chin raised in stubborn defiance and his arms crossed, as if daring his master to argue the point. His fierce façade was ruined, though, by the fact that his feet didn’t quite touch the ground. He looked more like a petulant child than the obstinate Jedi Knight-in-Training that he was, legs lightly swinging as he balanced in his master’s lap.

Qui-Gon sighed. “And you know I feel like a pedophile and a rapist because of it. Even if I forgive myself for not catching it when we were being drugged, I’ve purged any number of concoctions from my system before, and I should have managed to purge that one.” Obi-Wan felt his jaw clench. “But you couldn’t, Master. If you recall correctly, we were asleep when it was taking effect, and I don’t know any Jedi Master in the history of the Temple that can purge a drug while unconscious. Besides, did you forget it was the success of the drug that allowed us to catch the bad guy? I wish I could have sex with you to catch bad guys every mission.”

With a shake of his head and a wry smile, Qui-Gon decided to give in. For now. “I didn’t forget. Anyway, I love you, Padawan. I love you enough to know that I would have come to you eventually, even if that night hadn’t happened…” Qui-Gon’s voice turned teasing. “Or the night of that banquet, when you hounded me until I was drunk and aroused enough to seduce.” They shared a look and laughed, fondly remembering a feisty, seventeen year old Obi-Wan’s desperate pursuit to sleep with his master again. He’d succeeded, and preened the whole next day, the whole next _month_ , while Qui-Gon simmered in quiet fury at himself, before pretending the night hadn’t happened for the next three years. 

Obi-Wan kept smiling as he slid from Qui-Gon’s lap and returned to his chair and breakfast, adding, “It pays to be persistent, Master,” and popped some fruit into his mouth. Qui-Gon thought about how happy he was now that he’d let Obi-Wan fully into his life, and accepted defeat in peace. It might not have been legal, morally correct, socially acceptable, or even in line with the Jedi Code, but they both knew it was right. And Qui-Gon planned on reminding his young padawan just how right it could feel… after they finally finished breakfast, of course.


End file.
